The Buy More of the Bloodcurdling IV
by atlee
Summary: And now, the final installment of this year's Trio of Halloween parodies: - "Invasion of the Time Slot Snatchers"
1. The Secret of Nymph

**The Buy More of the Bloodcurdling IV**

_Yes, it's time for another trio of tales that are so scary they will give Freddy Kreuger nightmares, make Jason hide his face in fear, turn Dracula pale, and cause Frankenstein to wish he'd just stayed dead. *_

_*Actual fear not guaranteed, and all sales are final. If you experience any feelings of fear lasting for longer than four hours, then I did way better than expected. Any screams, shrieks or night terrors may not be rebroadcast without the expressed written consent of Major League Baseball. I do not own Chuck._

**The Secret of Nymph**

Lester Patel stared into the amber glow of his partially full beer mug. It was a dead night at Bennigan's. Other than the usual barflies, there was nobody of interest around. And of course, by of interest, Lester meant somebody female.

He took another swig of his drink, and looked up to see what his friend was doing. Lester was happy to let Jeff do his own thing this evening; after all they'd spend the full day together. Assistant Manager Tang's day off meant no supervision, so they had spent the day tightening up Jeffster's set list. Unfortunately, they hadn't really been seeing eye to eye on song selection. Jeff's semi-annual dark period was in full swing, and he had kept trying to add more metal to the list. He had even gone as far as to read lyrics out loud from some obscure Swedish Death Metal band. Whatever those lyrics were about, they sure seemed creepy. He was pretty sure Jeff broke into Latin or some other dead language at one point.

When Lester had last checked, Jeff had been embroiled in a fever-pitched battle of darts. Of course, Jeff's version of a fever-pitched battle involved round after round of barely hitting the board at all, surrounded by not infrequent naps on the bar table. Seeing that was where the match currently stood, Lester shrugged and returned his attention to the TV over the bar.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

"As a matter of fact, it's va…hoomarumbla."

Lester's sudden burst of eloquence came as the result of the woman leaning over him. She was wearing a sweatshirt, emblazoned with a picture of a moose and the word Toronto, that was tight enough to speed up his heartbeat. Her long brunette hair cascaded onto the shoulders, surrounding an olive-complexioned face. Almond eyes studied him quizzically.

Lester was staring at her in his usually gentlemanly way, but the woman didn't seem disturbed by this. In fact, she flashed him a smile that made him think that his newfound friend wasn't exactly a nice girl. "I'll take that as a no," she said, and proceeded to slide gracefully on the stool next to Lester's. "My name is Nadia. What's yours?"

"Uh…"

Nadia waited patiently. Lester, drawing a complete blank, looked around the bar in panic, looking for inspiration. "It's, um, Bud."

"Well, Bud, I've been watch you from back at the other end of the bar, and I have to tell you something."

"Wazzat?" Lester managed to utter.

"You look bored. Well," Nadia put a hand on his arm, "the funny thing is I'm bored too. So I thought we could be bored together."

Lester could hardly believe his luck. He decided he needed to show off his suave, sophisticated nature. He pointed to the bartender. "Garcon, another drink for the lady!"

Nadia waved off the scowling bartender. "Actually," she said, putting a hand on Lester's. "Maybe we could find someplace a little more private."

Lester gulped, but summoned up a hidden reserve of courage. He looked over at the sleeping Jeff, then turned back to his dream woman. "I know just the place."

* * *

"…I'm just saying that dropped the whole Venom plotline and that whole ridiculous Tobey Maguire dance scene, then maybe they would have had a half-way decent…"

"For the love of God, Bartowski!" Casey snapped, grabbing him by the shirt and almost throwing him against the side of the Buy More. "You wouldn't shut up for that entire stakeout, the least you could do is quit wasting your Goddamn breath now!"

"Guys!" Sarah interceded. "Could you leave it alone? I know that the last few hours were dull, but we should look at the positive. No international incidents happened on our watch. So a good night, right?"

Casey grunted. Chuck had only picked up a little bit of Casey-ese in the few months that he'd known him, but he was sure the grunt translated to, 'It would have been a good night if the Nerd toppled off a cliff.'

As the three spies headed over toward Castle to debrief with Beckman, Chuck paused by the Buy More entrance. "Guys, I'll catch up in a sec. Lester and Jeff were screwing around all day, and I should probably make sure they didn't destroy anything."

Chuck didn't feel a whole lot of responsibility towards the Buy More, but he knew that he should at least make sure his co-workers' antics were kept in check. The police, FBI, DEA, he figured any of them probably didn't need to know what was going on underneath the local electronics store.

The store was relatively quiet, having just closed a few minutes ago. Seeing a light in the storage area in back, Chuck poked his head inside. "Hey Lester, are you still…Oh my God."

* * *

"I don't think I ever want to use my eyes again. That was the worst thing I've ever seen."

Chuck shuddered at the memory of what he had seen, while Casey and Sarah flipped through the surveillance camera footage in Castle. The image of Lester's body, unusually pale and crumpled down on the floor of the Buy More storage area, would probably play a starring role in all of Chuck's nightmares for the foreseeable future.

"Why Lester?" he asked. "Could this have been somebody coming after us?"

"I guess it's possible," Sarah replied. "Wait," she paused the video. "I think I see something." She squinted at the black-and-white image. "Is that a woman?"

"An attractive one, it looks like," Chuck blushed slightly when Sarah gave him a look. "What's she doing with Lester?"

"Quite a bit, apparently," Sarah arched an eyebrow, as she continued to watch the video.

"I take it back. _This_ is the worst thing I've ever seen."

Chuck and Sarah turned away from the video as the two figures embrace grew friendlier and friendlier. Casey continued to watch with rapt attention.

"There!" Sarah said, after braving another look. Lester collapsed to the floor, and the female figure disappeared from the camera's range of vision.

Casey switched over to the video from the Buy More showroom, fast forwarding to the time when Lester fell.

"There's nobody in there," Chuck exclaimed. "Where'd she go?"

Finally, after a few minutes, they saw a female figure appear at one corner. "There she is…" Sarah pointed. "No wait, that's a different woman. She's blonde."

"Wig?" Chuck suggested.

"She looks taller too," Casey pointed out.

Chuck nodded, then peered more closely at the second woman. "Is that a uniform from the sandwich place across the way?"

"Pretty skimpy," Sarah commented.

"Hardly the paragon of class, like what the Weinerlicious makes you wear," Casey replied drily, earning a dirty look from his fellow spy. "Apparently the delivery is for Big Mike."

"You don't think…"

"I don't know." Despite their best efforts, they'd never managed to place any cameras in the Manager's Office. "We should probably check."

* * *

"The Buy More's going to be short one manager tomorrow."

Casey had managed to break down the door to the office, and the three spies were now staring at the dead body of Big Mike.

"I've never seen him so…thin," Chuck commented, revulsed and fascinated at the same time. "What could have done that? Some poison?"

"Nothing I've ever seen," Sarah replied.

"I have."

Sarah and Chuck looked over at Casey. "I'll explain after we move the bodies. Luckily, Big Mike is a lot lighter than he's ever been before." He motioned to Chuck. "You two get Lester, and we'll dump them in the Wienerlicious before anyone else finds them."

"But who are these assassins? Why go after Lester and Big Mike?"

Moving the bodies had been easier than expected. Whatever had caused Big Mike to become Barely Medium-Sized Mike had made Lester's body lighter as well, and Chuck and Sarah had managed to get him into the Wienerlicious freezer with little effort. Now they were back in Castle, waiting for Casey to present his explanation.

Chuck shrugged. "They must be working for somebody. Some other country? Fulcrum?"

"Succubi."

"Succubi? Is that another group?" Chuck responded to Casey's interjection. "Kind of a weird name for a shadowy organization."

"They're not an organization, Moron," Casey growled. We walked over to his locker, grabbed something, and proceeded to drop it onto the conference room table with a loud thud.

Chuck stared at the dusty tome as he and Sarah crowded over it. "Did you steal that from the Sunnydale High library, Casey?"

The big man ignored him, and flipped through several pages, sending a thick layer of dust floating through the air. Finally, he found the page he wanted, and gave it a satisfied slap.

Chuck glanced at the page. "Wait, you mean an actual succubus, as in female demon? You sure you weren't sucking on the Crown Vic's exhaust fumes lately?"

"You think the limited imagination in that tiny brain of yours, or the waffle iron stuck in there with it, knows everything, Bartowski?" Casey growled in Chuck's face. "Trust me on this, that was a succubus. Knew it from the moment I saw what had happened to Patel."

"You have to admit this is a pretty far-out theory, Casey," Sarah pointed out. "I just saw two women. Normal, human-looking women."

"They can look normal if they want. Can look however they want. Usually, they take the form of whatever deepest desire their prey has. And then, they suck out his life force."

"Wait, that's why there's so much…less Big Mike?"

"Man always had a lot of joie de voivre. That she-beast that got time will be fine for a while. The one that got Lester, not so much."

"So, let's assume for a minute that they are what you say they are," Sarah said. "How do you know this?"

"Run across one a couple of times. Once in Zambia in 92, and one in Las Vegas in 2002."

"Vegas?"

Casey nodded. "Miss America Pageant. Trust me, you never want to see Miss Nebraska coming at you with razor-sharp teeth and tentacles the size of tree trunks."

"Tentacles?"

"Their true form – a lot less pretty. Miss Rhode Island had greenish pus coming out of her eyes, and Miss Rhode Island was covered in warts and had a hump the size of a Volkswagen."

"So…they didn't win?"

Casey shook his head. "Nobody won that day. Anyway, they usually come in groups of three, so there's probably another one around here."

"Great. So, and I'm still not admitting I believe you Casey, these succubuses…"

"Succubi."

"Succubi, right. They can only turn into other females, right?"

"Why, Bartowski?" Casey smirked. "You have some secret fantasies you want to share."

"No, just wanted to know what to keep an eye out for."

"There's one important thing you haven't told us, Casey," Sarah chimed in. "How do we kill them?"

"Not easily, but it's possible. And you need special weapons. Lucky for you two, I've got them."

"Great!" Chuck stood up, and moved over towards Castle's special weapon cabinet. "So crack open that cabinet, and hook us up."

"They're not here, Bartowski. Only felt I could keep 'em safe at home." The big man stood up. "So we'd better hurry and get them."

The three spies climbed up the stairs, and headed out to Casey's Crown Vic. Chuck, still dwelling on Casey's odd story, didn't notice his sister's boyfriend heading in the other direction.

* * *

Devon Woodcomb wandered through the aisles of the oddly quiet Buy More. Strangely, while the doors had been open, there was no sign of anyone working there. Such poor work ethic was not awesome.

He had at least assumed he'd find Chuck there. That was why he'd come, after all. He needed Chuck's help to ask Ellie a very important question.

Devon fumbled with the small box in his pocket. He needed a place to hide the ring that would be safe from Ellie's prying eyes, and the Buy More seemed like as good a place as any.

Devon's search for any sign of life led him all the way around the showroom and into the employee locker room at the back of the store. Finding it as empty as the rest of the store, he decided to remember which of the many lockers belonged to Chuck. Unable to figure that out, he tried opening a few of the lockers, to no success.

"Hi there, Handsome."

Devon almost dropped the ring box when he whirled around to see Ellie smiling sweetly at him. Actually, it wasn't exactly a sweet smile, it was more than a leer. "Babe? What are you doing here?"

"Why, looking for you, of course!"

"Umm, well, here I am," the Doctor stammered, shoving the ring box back into his pocket.

"Yes, you are. And I think you have something for me." She stepped forward purposefully towards Devon. "Something in your pants."

"Umm…" How could she have known? He didn't think he'd dropped any hints. In fact, he'd been downright smooth.

At that point, Devon realized two things. First, Ellie may not have been referring to what was in his pants pocket.

Second, she was wearing _a lot_ of leather.

* * *

Stepping into the Buy More, Morgan made a beeline for the Nerd Herd desk. It was the last place he remembered having his cell phone, so it must have fallen to the floor somewhere. He knelt down on the ground and searched for his missing phone, finding nothing more than some disturbingly large dust bunnies.

He leapt back to his feet, only to jump backwards in surprise at finding someone at the counter waiting for him.

"Uh, hi, Ellie." He swore he hadn't heard her come in.

"You're still open, aren't you?" Chuck's sister asked.

"Of course. For you, we're open 24/7."

Ellie smiled, and Morgan felt his palms start to sweat. "Oh, you didn't happen to find my cell phone, did you?"

Ellie quietly shook her head, and leaned forward over the counter. Morgan blinked in surprise.

"Umm, is that your old cheerleader outfit?"

"Echo Park High, class of 95. Would you believe it still fits?"

"It sure does," Morgan gulped. The uniform was in very good shape, considering its age and how often it had appeared in his dreams.

"Well, Morgan, how about you ring this up for me?" She handed him her merchandise.

Morgan's eyes bulged. "The Star Wars limited edition box set?"

"I've heard you talk about it so much, I figured I'd have to see it for myself. Say," Ellie said, and eyebrow raised. "Maybe you'd like to watch it with me. Maybe some place…private."

"Uh, ok," Morgan gulped again. "Why don't I…ring this up and meet you in the Buy More screening room?"

"That sounds great. But don't take your time," Ellie touched Morgan's face, then slinked off towards the screening room. Morgan had to grab the Nerd Herd counter to prevent himself from fainting.

* * *

It took some fast thinking on Devon's part to get away from Ellie. Not that he wasn't very excited to do exactly what his girlfriend suggested, especially in that leather outfit. Like any animal-loving citizen of the planet, he was against wearing leather, but he was willing to make an exception here. Fortunately, not a lot of leather had been used, as there was quite a bit of his girlfriend that the outfit left uncovered.

Still, the moment the clothes came off the ring box would be revealed, and that wouldn't do. Fortunately, the old 'I have a pack of condoms in the glove compartment of the pick-up' excuse gave him just the opportunity he needed. Now he just had to find a good hiding place. He took the box out of his pocket, and studied it briefly. Where could he put it?

As he wandered back into the Buy More showroom, he was surprised to see Morgan standing there by the Nerd Herd counter. Strangely, he looked pale, and in fact became even paler when the doctor emerged. "Um, Devon, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for Chuck," Devon responded. "You seen him?"

"Chuck, no… No Bartowskis at all here. Honest."

Devon nodded. It was probably a good thing that Morgan hadn't seen Ellie in her present choice of garb. He knew that the bearded man had always nursed a bit of a crush on his intended, and that sight would just make things awkward for him.

Unfortunately, Morgan noticed the box in Devon's hand. "Uh, what's that?"

Devon decided there was no point in softening the blow. "I'm going to propose to Ellie, Dude. But I need a place to hide it from Ellie, so I wanted to enlist Chuck's help."

"Propose to Ellie?" Morgan said, staring at the box. "You sure that's a good idea?"

"Of course." The poor boy was still jealous, of course.

"Are you sure, she'd…say yes?"

"Oh, trust me, she'll say yes."

"Well, you never know, maybe she likes somebody else," Morgan said uncertainly.

The poor bastard really does still have it bad, Devon thought to himself. Well, he'll have to get over it. "Sorry, Morgan. This is happening. Now, do you have any idea where Chuck might be?"

"Umm…maybe with Sarah at the Wienerlicious?"

"Of course! Awesome idea. Thanks Bro!" Devon hurried out towards the Buy More entrance. Morgan breathed a deep sigh of relief behind him.

* * *

"Hello?"

The door to the Wienerlicious was open, but there weren't any customers to be found. This didn't surprise Devon; he couldn't understand why anyone would want to eat what that establishment claimed to be food. But no one was at the counter either.

Devon was about to leave, when he noticed the door to the back. He called out again to make sure he wouldn't walk in on Chuck and Sarah during a private moment. Hearing nothing, he pushed the door open.

The room was dark, so he fumbled around for a light switch. Once on, he looked around, but saw nothing but rows and rows of condiments. He considered the possibility of hiding the ring box behind one of the bottles, but decided they were too out in the open. With his luck, the ring would wind up in someone's hot dog.

Looking around, he noticed a steel door in the back of the storeroom, probably leading to the freezer. Perhaps this could be a better place to hide the ring. He opened the door and looked inside.

* * *

Ellie Bartowski didn't like thinking this way. She wasn't one of those jealous girls who rifled through her boyfriend's wallet, looking for unexplained hotel receipts. But Devon had been acting very strangely lately. He'd seemed jumpy, even paranoid. And she had to know what was going on.

She'd planned to drive to the Buy More to see if she could find Chuck, figuring that he might know something that she didn't. Of course, he'd been acting oddly lately too, but that was a whole other thing to worry about. Still, he _was_ were brother, and he'd certainly tell her if he knew something about Devon.

When Ellie pulled into the shopping center parking lot, she was surprised to see Devon's truck in the parking lot. This was strange. He didn't have any reason for being there, unless…

As Ellie parked her own car, she saw an unmistakable tall, well-built shadow heading towards the Wienerlicious. A few moments later, a female silhouette followed him. She felt her stomach drop, as her worst fears were realized. Was Devon having an affair? Could it be with Sarah?

The idea seemed strange, and really, outside of a landfill or the Stanford campus, a fast food hotdog joint seemed like the least likely place Devon would want to go for a late night hook-up. Still, she's seen what she'd seen. And how well did she really know Chuck's girlfriend, anyway? She quietly exited the car, and headed towards the restaurant.

Peering through a window, Ellie saw that the lights were on, but no one else appeared to be around. She was about to follow her boyfriend inside, when a hand grabbed her shoulder.

Ellie whirled around in surprise. At first she didn't recognize the shadow in the dark, but then she blinked and was able to make out the pigtails and short red skirt of a Wienerlicious employee. "Sarah?"

"Hey, you," the other girl responded. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm…looking for Devon. I think he went in there." Ellie pointed at the restaurant.

"Ah. Well I'm sure he just wanted a late night snack."

Ellie felt a bit better seeing how little Sarah knew her boyfriend. She walked over to the Wienerlicious entrance, and peered inside again.

Sarah walked up behind her, and looked over her shoulder. "See, nobody inside."

"Well, I guess you should be back in there," Ellie said, looking down at the other girl's uniform. "Were you on a smoke break?"

"Oh no, smoking isn't one of my vices," Sarah flashed a smile that reminded her of the crocodiles at the zoo. "Say, why don't you come in with me, we can talk."

Figuring she might as well get to know her brother's girlfriend better, Ellie followed Sarah inside.

Ellie watched Sarah dart back and forth around the dining area, cleaning up. She did this gracefully, though she did seem to linger a bit when bending over to clean the floor. No wonder most of the restaurant's clientele was male.

"I hate to admit this, but when you first started dating my brother, I didn't really get it."

"Oh," Sarah said, busily working on another spot on the floor.

"Well, as much as I love my brother, you seem a bit too ….hot for him."

"Why thank you," Sarah turned around and gave Ellie another smile, this one more shark than crocodile. "But really, it's mostly the uniform."

"Not just that. Although, to be honest, as demeaning as it must be to wear, I have to admit it does look really cute on you."

Sarah stood up, and gave Ellie a speculative look. "You know I'd bet it would look great on you too."

"Well, I don't know…Sarah, you don't need to…" A moment later, Sarah had removed the blouse and tossed it over to Ellie.

"Oh don't worry," Sarah said, putting a hand on Ellie's arm and giving her a _very_ friendly look. "Nobody's here. Just try it on."

Against her better judgment, Ellie did exactly that.

* * *

Devon slowly backed away, trying to forget what he'd seen in the freezer. With unwanted flashbacks to his pathology rotation bouncing through his head, he shut the metal door, and quietly moved back to the entrance.

A much less unpleasant, but equally unsettling, sight greeted him when he returned to the dining area. Ellie was wearing a tight-fitting Wienerlicious uniform, while Sarah was wearing nothing more than her underwear.

"Umm, what's going on here?" asked the two surprised women. Struggling to keep his eyes only focused on his girlfriend, he added, "Babe, I like the costume idea. Though to be honest, I kind of prefer the leather."

"Leather?" Ellie asked. "Honey, you know I don't wear leather." She looked over at Sarah. "Honest."

"Hey, I think you'd look great in leather."

"Oh, no need to pretend, Babe. That get-up you had back at the Buy More was…Awesome."

"The Buy More? I wasn't at the Buy More."

"Oh come on Babe, there's no need to…" Devon almost bit through his tongue as a second Ellie walked in.

"I was right," Sarah commented. "You _do_ look good in leather."

"Uh, what's going on?" Wienerlicious Ellie asked. "Who is that, and why does she look like me?"

"What do you mean?" Leather Ellie asked. "And who are you, and why are you pretending to be me?"

"Um, I'm not sure what to do here," Devon said, looking between the two identical women standing at the room staring at him.

"Just like a man to not know his own girlfriend," Sarah said, gently rubbing the arm of Wienerlicious Ellie, who looked even more confused.

At that moment, the awkwardness was interrupted by Morgan bursting in. "Devon, there's something I have to tell you about…Ellie…s?" His eyes grew wide at the scene in front of him. Wienerlicious Ellie wrapped her arms around herself in a protective way, while Leather Ellie raised an eyebrow.

The momentary distraction caused Devon to remember why he was there. "Ellie…uh, Ellie Number 1!" He pointed to Sarah. "Get away from her! She's a murderer!"

"What?"

"There are two dead bodies in there!" Devon pointed back towards the kitchen. "Lester and Big Mike! She must have killed them!"

"Oh, don't be silly," Sarah protested. Looking at Ellie, she added, "He's just trying to keep you away from me."

"Wait, Lester and Big Mike are dead?" Morgan exclaimed. "That can't be! I just saw them!"

"When?"

"A couple of hours ago, at the Buy More."

"And were they there now?"

"No, I only saw her," he pointed at Wienerlicious Ellie, "or…possibly her." He pointed his other hand towards her leather-clad doppelganger.

"Ah, there you are!"

Everyone turned around to see a third Ellie burst through the door.

* * *

"Are you sure these things will work?" Chuck asked as he, Sarah and Casey returned to Castle, ducking through the back entrance.

Casey opened his sack, and dropped the collection of cruel-looking weapons onto the conference room table. "Trust me, I know how to handle Hellspawn."

"I'm not questioning you," Chuck said, eyeing an oddly-shaped axe, "but some of these look like they were stolen from a Renaissance fair."

"And where exactly do you think most demons hang out? Geez, use some common sense, Bartowski!"

"Huh."

Both Chuck and Casey looked over to Sarah, who was standing by the Castle command center.

"It looks like somebody's in the Wienerlicious."

"Well that has to be suspicious," Chuck commented. "Nobody ever goes in there."

"Damn," Sarah muttered. "The monitors aren't working." She turned to Casey. "Can these succubi do that?"

"No telling what those demon harpies can't do. We'd better go up there." He grabbed a cruel-looking sword. Sarah followed with the strange axe. After a moment of consideration, Chuck was about to grab what he guessed was a halberd. Before he could get his hands on one, Casey grabbed him. "You think I'm trusting you with any of those?"

"But…demon harpies."

"Just stay behind me and you'll be ok," Sarah said. Chuck dejectedly followed them up the stairs through the hidden entrance to the kitchen, and then into the dining area. He almost crashed into Casey, who had stopped in his tracks.

"And I thought Vegas was messed up," Casey muttered. Chuck had to struggle to see over the big man, and immediately wished he hadn't.

Devon was cowering in a corner, his usually tan complexion as pale as milk, while Chuck's sister, wearing what appeared to be Xena the Warrior Princess's hand-me-downs, stood over him. Someone looking an awful lot like held the chin of a very confused-looking Morgan in her hand. She was also wearing her high school cheerleader uniform, or at least a version of her uniform that had shrunk a few times in the wash. The long-lost twin sister of one or both of the other Ellies, dressed in the Wienerlicious uniform, stood beside Sarah. A barely dressed Sarah.

"Does the CIA medical plan cover counseling?" he asked aloud.

"I was wondering that exact same thing," the Sarah standing beside him replied.

"Chuck?" one of the Ellies asked aloud.

"What's going on, Chuck?" one of the others asked.

"Murderers!" Devon exclaimed, pointing at the new arrivals.

"Well, we know at least two of your sisters are succubi, Bartowski," Casey said, looking from one to the other. "Which ones?"

"How am I supposed to tell?"

"She's your sister, can't you figure it out?" He sighed. "Succubi are usually dressed so they can easily seduce someone. In a way your sister wouldn't normally dress."

Chuck looked from the leather outfit to the cheerleader uniform to the Wienerlicious costume. "That doesn't help!"

"Chuck, it's me!" Wienerlicious Ellie said.

"No, don't listen to her. It's me!" cheerleader Ellie disagreed.

"Ok, that one has to be fake. There's no way my sister would try to seduce Morgan."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, buddy, can't sugar-coat it right now." He looked back at the other two versions of his sister. "I don't know…"

"Ask them a question!" Sarah hissed. "Something your sister would know."

Chuck looked over at Casey. "They can't read minds?"

"They absorb the knowledge of their victims, so in theory whoever killed Lester would know everything he did. So, not really much of an issue," he admitted.

"Ok. Ellie Number 1."

"This isn't the Dating Game, Bartowski."

"Whatever. Ellie, what was I for Halloween in the fifth grade?"

"I can't remember that!" one of the Ellies burst out.

"Aha!"

"That's a pretty obscure detail, " Sarah pointed out. "You should try another one, just to be safe."

"Alright." Chuck thought for a moment. "Oh. What did Stewart Lidcomb always call me in Elementary School?" He had no idea why that question had popped into his head. The stress of the current situation must have gotten to him.

"Ooh, I know!"

"Not you, Morgan."

"Spanky," Wienerlicious Ellie responded.

"Spanky?" a chorus of voices, demonic and otherwise, shouted simultaneously.

"Is that right?" Sarah asked.

"Yes," Chuck replied weakly.

"Ok, then," Sarah said, waving the axe, " I think we have work to do. Chuck, take the real Ellie, Devon and Morgan into the back room, while Casey and I take care of the rest." She looked back at her asset. "Chuck!" she barked. "Quit staring at me…her, and get moving!"

Chuck tore his eyes away from the underwear-clad Sarah and went over to Devon as Casey moved over to confront the fake Ellie that had been cornering him. He dragged his sister's boyfriend toward the kitchen.

"I'm not going in there! There are dead bodies in there."

"There are going to be dead bodies out here in a second. C'mon!" Ellie, and a moment later Morgan, had managed to break away in the confusion, and were a step behind him. He shooed them through the back door.

Chuck looked back briefly before closing the door. Cheerleader Ellie, dodging the axe, seem to blur briefly. A second later she returned to the exact same form. "Well, that's convenient," she cooed.

Casey, temporarily dazed, stood there staring at the succubus. "Geez," Chuck muttered, "does _everybody_ have the hots for my sister?"

"Oh for the love of God!" Sarah griped. She pushed aside her opponent and moved over to stand between the NSA agent and the succubus. Just as she was about to bring down the axe, Chuck quickly turned away. Some things, no amount of therapy could cure.

* * *

"Chuck, what's going on?" Ellie asked, once the door was safely shut. "Why are there two other versions of me out there?"

"And who killed Lester and Big Mike?" Morgan added.

"Everything will be explained soon, I promise," Chuck said, though he had no idea how. "But, at least we're safe in here." He looked over to see at least temporary expressions of relief from Devon, Morgan and Ellie.

"Wait a minute!" his eyes returned to his sister. "I thought you were wearing the Wienerlicious outfit!"

"No, of course not, Chuck," Ellie replied, brushing aside a strand of hair from a leather shoulder strap.

"No you were, because I remember thinking how much I never want you to explain why."

"Oh well," Ellie said, as her image blurred briefly. A moment later, it was replaced by Sarah, wearing a very slinky black dress. "I'll bet I know what _you_ want, Chuck."

"Oh crap," Chuck heard Morgan say. Or it might have been his own voice; he wasn't certain of anything at the moment.

The succubus inched towards Chuck, positioning herself in front of the exit so that he couldn't escape. Once she was only a few inches away, she briefly closed her eyes. "Hmm… maybe I was wrong." A moment later she shimmered again.

The image of Sarah was replaced by that of a squat, muscular woman . The succusbus' dark hair was shaved close to her scalp, and a nasty scar extended across most of the right side of her face. Sarah's dress had been replaced by military fatigues.

"Well, Chuck, I want you." The succubus' com-on came out a less-than-seductive hiss. "Don't you want me?"

"Yeah, not so much," Chuck replied, right before grabbing a two-liter bottle of ketchup and hitting the succubus over her head.

"Chuck, are you ok?" Sarah asked as she burst into the room, followed by Casey, and to Chuck's great relief, Ellie.

Chuck nodded.

"Wow, Bartowski, you've got some sick tastes," Casey said, looking over the unconscious succubus.

"I don't know what happened," Chuck said, "but that is _not_ my fantasy."

"I know what happened," Sarah said. "That's Regina Lavonski. She was an Albanian terrorist back in the 70s. The succubus must have tried to read your mind, and read the Intersect instead."

"Intersect? What's the Intersect?" Ellie asked. "Could you guys please explain what's going on?"

"What are we going to do?" Chuck asked. "How do we explain all of this?"

"We don't," Casey replied, retrieving a small silver rod from his jacket.

"Casey, don't hurt them!"

"This won't hurt them. Just make them forget the last few hours."

Wait," Chuck took a closer look at the rod. "Is that one of those things form Men in Black?"

"Those stingy bastards share their tech?" Casey scoffed. "No, this is NSA Issue."

Chuck was about to ask further, but a moment later the rod filled the room with a bright flash.

* * *

"I never thought I would find fighting ex-KGB assassins to be so relaxing."

It was a few days later, and everything had returned to normal. The last of the succubi had been disposed of, and Chuck was looking forward to a quiet dinner.

Chuck and Sarah walked through the courtyard and Chuck opened the door to the bungalow.

Ellie, Devon and Morgan were all seated at the dining room table. "Hey, Chuck!" Ellie greeted her brother. "I thought tonight we could all have a cozy dinner together." She looked over to Chuck's companion. "Sarah, I hope you can join us as well. I've been hoping to get the chance to know you better."

"Um, actually Sarah and I were going to go see a movie," Chuck backed away. "Weren't we, Honey?"

"Absolutely." Sarah actually looked slightly red.

"Oh yeah, what were you going to see?"

"Oh, um, we hadn't decided yet." He turned to Sarah. "How about that one about the…"

"Sounds perfect."

"Right, so we're going to go." A moment later, Chuck and Sarah disappeared out the door.

"Oh well," Ellie said after they had left. "I guess it's just the three of us. Say Morgan, could you help me get a bottle of wine from the basement?"

"Um, sure."

"I'm so glad you could join us," Ellie said as she turned on the basement light. "Grab a bottle just over there."

Hardly an expert in wine, Morgan grabbed the first bottle he could see. "Is this ok?"

He turned around to find Ellie standing over him, giving him a hungry look.

"It looks tasty."

A moment later, Ellie stuck out her tongue. A very long, very forked tongue.

"Now," Ellie said, grabbing Morgan's arm, "how about a little snack…"

"No, don't eat me!" Morgan said, fighting off the hand grabbing him, as he burst awake.


	2. The Happy Unicorn

"Uncle Morgan! Uncle Morgan!"

Morgan burst up from the couch, to find the curious eyes of Clara Woodcomb staring at him.

"Uncle Morgan, wake up!"

"I'm up! I'm up!"

"You aren't a very good babysitter. You're not supposed to fall asleep."

"Yeah well," Morgan pushed himself up. "But you were. About an hour ago."

"I can't sleep."

"Oh, ok." Morgan's mind ran through his meager babysitting experience. "Would you like some warm milk?"

"No, I want you to tell me a story."

"Sure, Clara," Morgan took the little girl's hand and led her back to her room. After tucking her back into her bed and handing her a convenient teddy bear, he surveyed the options on the book shelf.

"Not one of those. I want you to make up a story. A good one."

"Ok." Deciding that Clara was a very high-maintenance babysitting client, Morgan sat by the bed. The images from his dream were still vivid within his mind. Clearly, not acceptable five-year-old material.

"Alright, a bedtime story. A good one. Here goes. "

**The Happy Unicorn**

Once upon a time, there lived a Unicorn named Sandy. Sandy was a very happy unicorn, because he lived in a Carefree Forest, right next to the Grape Soda Lagoon.

Sandy's best friend was a bluebird named Jenny. Jenny and Sandy loved to play games all day. They would chase around the forest, go swimming in the river, and climb Ice Cream Mountain.

But Sandy and Jenny's favorite things to do were to sing and dance. Every day they would dance and sing together, and all of the other happy creatures would come and see them and become happy themselves. Mikey the happy bunny, Molly the happy kitty, Alex the happy kangaroo, even Zoe the happy…"

"Stop!"

* * *

Morgan looked up at his very unsatisfied audience pouting at him.

"What am I, a baby? That story's lame!"

"I want a scary story," Clara explained. "It's almost Halloween."

"A Halloween story, huh. Are you sure you're old enough for that?"

Clara nodded.

"Ok, then. The customer's always right, so here goes..."


	3. But Are DeLoreans Fuel Efficient?

**II. But Are DeLoreans Fuel Efficient?**

Chuck snuck a quick glance over his shoulder. Satisfied that nobody was behind him, he ducked into the secret back entrance to Castle.

The base was mostly dark right now. In fact, it usually was dark; he had rarely found the heart to enter the place in the last few months. Too many painful memories. But at the moment, he was desperate.

Carmichael Industries never should have accepted the job. Protecting the Libyan Prime Minister. With just Casey and himself, the task was too great. But they needed the work.

Ever since Sarah's amnesia, things hadn't been the same. After trying to make it work for a couple of weeks, Chuck's wife had decided it was too difficult and left. In addition to the personal toll it took on Chuck, it had affected his work, and he had been too preoccupied to stop Morgan from setting off that block off C4. And now Casey, his only remaining partner, had been gunned down by a member of a Libyan militant group.

A Libyan militant group now pursuing him.

Momentarily unarmed, Chuck needed something to protect himself. A simple gun wouldn't do. What he needed was something big, shiny and loud, as Morgan would have put it. Unfortunately, he had never learned the combination to Casey's special cabinet of big, shiny and loud things.

On a hunch, Chuck went over to the closet he'd used to store some of his father's things he'd found back at their old house's basement. Maybe he had something useful. After a couple of minutes of rummaging, he found what appeared to be a machine gun, but with an odd blue sphere attached to its base. Shrugging, Chuck took it. It would have to do.

Chuck emerged back outside, and headed towards his car. He needed to get away as quickly as he could, but unfortunately, his Prius didn't have the same zip as Sarah's old Porsche. Once again he felt the pang of missing his wife. She would know what to do.

Suddenly headlights shone in the empty parking lot. Chuck looked up, and saw a van heading towards him. "Libyans!"

He aimed the odd gun at the van, and pressed the trigger. The orb lit up, but nothing else happened.

Chuck jumped into the Prius, tossed the useless weapon into the passenger seat, and started the engine. He had barely got the car moving before the Libyans' automatic weapons started spraying gunfire. A few shots hit the windshield but luckily none hit Chuck.

"Come on, come on!" Trying to ignore the glare of the van's high beams reflected in the Prius's rearview mirror, Chuck pushed the accelerator as hard as he could. Tires squealing, Chuck headed towards the parking lot exit. The speedometer reluctantly pushed its way past 70.

A moment later, a large blue flash emerged from the passenger side, and the Prius disappeared.

* * *

It took a moment for Chuck's eyes to adjust, but once they did the images they recorded didn't make any sense. For one thing, it was now daylight; early morning, judging by the sun's position. For another, he was sideways. Apparently, he'd driven the Prius out of the parking lot, and it had rolled down a hill before flipping. He struggled his way out of the car, and looked around.

Something was definitely wrong. The familiar sites, the Buy More, Large Mart, and Underpants Etc., were all gone. In their place was a single building, extending from one end of the lot to the other. In a strange way, it looked familiar to Chuck. Almost like the old Dual Beeches Mall he remembered from his childhood.

After a short walk through the parking lot, he noticed a sign. It _was_ the Dual Beeches Mall. But how could that be?

Chuck walked towards the entrance, carefully peering around. It was apparently too early for the mall to be open, so there was nobody around to ask. Which was probably a good thing, because he had no idea what the question would be.

The situation didn't become completely clear until he noticed something in a wastebasket. "Wait, that was an actual newspaper! I must have traveled through time!" He reached into the trash can, and grabbed the paper. The date said July 24, 1982.

"Ok," Chuck said to himself, sitting down on a nearby park bench. "Time travel. I can handle this. I've seen movies from the 1980s, TV specials on cable about the 1980s, TV shows with lengthy flashbacks to the 1980s, movies from the 1980s about time travel, movies about time travel to the 1980s." It was as if his whole life had prepared him for this.

"But how am I going to get back?" Chuck thought for a moment, then remembered the odd gun he'd found. Returning to the car, he dragged the strange object and tried to turn it on, but nothing happened. He stared at the blue orb. What was he supposed to do? He had only gotten the thing to work the first time by accident.

He needed to find someone who knew how the darn thing worked. In fact, Chuck realized, he needed the person that had built it the first time.

He needed to find his father.

* * *

It was a short distance to downtown Burbank, and Chuck decided to walk. A cab would have been an option, but he doubted they would accept his futuristic cash or a credit card, even if it wasn't about to expire for another 34 years.

After a couple of blocks, Chuck regretted his decision. The air was filled with smog, making breathing a chore. He found a park bench, and sat down. It was now mid-morning and the street was beginning to brim with activity. Rectangular-shaped cars drove back on forth on the street, while the occasional passerby walked past.

Chuck decided he needed to blend in, as the only thing that looked 1980s-esque about him was his shoes. He greeted the next pedestrian with, "What a totally tubular day, huh?" This earned a confused look. A woman responded to "That baby is like totally choice!" by pushing her stroller quickly to the other side of the street. An older man, apparently taking Chuck's shouted "Where's the beef?" as a threat, simply ran off.

After alienating a few other people, Chuck gave up. At this point, he was feeling tired and hungry. Looking around, he noticed a Howard Johnson's across the street. "Well, at least I can have food." He ran over to the entrance, and found a table.

"I'll have two scrambled eggs, a side of bacon, and a coke." Chuck told the eager waitress who stopped by his table. "Uh, is that New Coke or old Coke?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, never mind. Just whatever you have." Apparently, it's not the New Coke part of the 80s yet, Chuck thought to himself after the waitress vanished.

While he was waiting for his food, Chuck mentally categorized the 1980s. "Alf, Dexys Midnight Runners, Hands Across America,…" Unfortunately, as far as he could remember, none of those things had happened yet. "Stupid 80s didn't start until 1984," he grumbled to himself, "Vh-1 lied to me."

"Could I get a refill, please?"

Chuck turned around in surprise. The voice was a bit higher-pitched than usual, but definitely familiar. The waitress walked over to another booth, and responded, "You mean another bowl of Donkey Kong Crunch, Hun?"

"Absolutely."

"Coming right up."

Once the waitress had disappeared back into the kitchen, Chuck leaned over to get a better glimpse of the other booth. Its occupant was seated with his back to Chuck, so all he could see was a head of curly hair. Chuck decided to move over to get a better glimpse.

He was definitely the right height, but the headband, crudely taped-together glasses, short shorts and striped tube socks, and the Air Supply t-shirt definitely seemed out of place. Unable to stop himself, Chuck blurted out "Casey?"

The head turned, and Chuck could see he was right. It was Casey. An awkward, teenaged version of John Casey, but definitely him.

The eyes blinked incomprehendingly. "Who?"

Chuck realized his mistake. "Oh wait, no, it's Alex, right?"

"_Alexander_," Casey corrected. "Alexander Coburn. Have we met before?"

"Um,…" Chuck thought as he sat down across from Casey. "We met at that thing, remember?"

"I don't know," Casey replied. "I don't get to go to a lot of things."

Chuck thought for a moment. The truth clearly wasn't an option, but he should probably come up with something plausible.

"Wait!" Casey interrupted his thoughts. "Were you at the Tron opening last month?"

"Exactly!" a relieved Chuck responded, though the thought of Casey as a Tron fan seemed strange. He held out his hand. "My name's Ch… Channing…Tatum," uttering the first name that came to mind.

"Channing Tatum? What a dorky name. Maybe I could call you Charlie?"

Chuck hated the name, but it was safer than his usual one. "Sure, why not."

"Nice to meet you, Charlie."

"So," Chuck said once the waitress had brought his eggs and Casey's cereal, "is there any chance you could give me a ride somewhere?"

"Well, my mom's car is at home," Casey said. "I could get it if you don't mind riding on my bike?"

"Your bike? You mean a motorcycle?"

Casey let out an oddly high-pitched giggle. "No silly, my bicycle. Don't worry," he added, seeing Chuck's expression. "It's cool. It's got racing stripes and everything. I ride every day for my paper route."

"Rugburn!"

The loud bellow rang through the restaurant. Seeing Casey's wince, Chuck turned around.

Three young men had entered. One was sporting a freshly-shaved Mohawk, along with a Manowar t-shirt. A second was wearing a leather jacket, a California Angels cap, and shades, which he neglected to remove once inside.

The third, who had been the one to yell out Casey's name, was Jeff Barnes.

A younger, mullet-sporting version of Jeff Barnes. And to Chuck's eye, a Jeff Barnes that had recently discovered cocaine, judging by his jumpiness and all-around angry disposition. "I thought I told you never to come in here, Rugburn! HoJo's is my turf!"

"Uh, sorry Jeff," Casey struggled to his feet as the three bullies approached, almost tripping over himself.

"Here, let me help you," Jeff reached over and grabbed the cereal bowl. "You should take this to go," he added as he poured the cereal over Casey's head. As his two sidekicks burst out into laughter, Jeff turned to Chuck. "What're you looking at, Butt Munch?"

* * *

"_I was working at a waitress in a cocktail bar, that much is true_

_But even then I knew I'd find a much better place_

_Either with or without you_

_The five years we have had have been such good at times_

_I still love you_

_But now I think it's time I lived my life on my own_

_I guess it's just what I must do"_

John Casey's – er, Alexander Coburn's – mother was, strangely, pretty much what Chuck had always pictured. The uptied hair, thick glasses, and flowery housedress all pretty much matched the mental image he'd formed after years of interactions with her son.

However, he'd never pictured the mother/son sing-a-long now occurring in the Coburn living room. The whole scene was very uncomfortable, even more uncomfortable than the journey to the house on the back of Casey's bicycle.

"_Don't. Don't you want me?_

_You know I can't believe it when I hear that you won't see me_

_Don't. Don't you want me?_

_You know I don't believe you when you say that you don't need me"_

"Join in Charlie!" Casey shouted while his mother plunked on the piano keys.

"Umm, I'm not really a singer. Really, if we could just get going…"

"Oh I won't hear of it," Casey's mother said, stopping mid-piano riff. "My Schnookems hardly ever has any friends over, so you must stay for lunch. Even if you are," she added, studying Chuck, "a bit old to be hanging out with a teenager."

* * *

Casey's mother's culinary skills didn't extend much beyond Chef Boyardee, but Chuck was too famished to care. And listening to young Casey was too fascinating to pass up. Besides, thanks to the Libyan militants, it was his last chance to actually spend time with the man.

He was so entranced in Casey's description of the previous week's "That's Incredible", he barely noticed the low-battery signal from his phone. "What was that?" Casey asked.

"My phone," Chuck responded, not thinking.

"Your phone? How would you have a phone here? Without a cord? Wait, are you some sort of spy?"

"Um, no."

"Oh, he's just messing with you, Darling," Casey's mom put a hand on his cheek. "Of course it's not a phone."

"I'm not a spy," Chuck said, making a face. "I'm actually from the future," he waved a hand in a spooky sci-fi gesture. "That's my future phone, which connects to satellites in the sky, and can download 10 gigabytes of information in a month."

Casey looked confused. "What's a jigabyte?"

"Charles, you have quite a sense of humor," Mrs. Coburn said. "Do you live in the area?"

"You could say that."

"And you have a job?"

"Multiple, actually."

"See there, good work ethic, just like my boy. Even if you do like to make up stories about phones and satellites."

"Satellites, that sounds like something that jerk Reagan would use for his Star Wars stuff."

As Chuck raised an eyebrow, Casey's mother explained, "My Schnookems is very interested in politics."

Casey cleared his plate, gulping down the last of his lunch. "Hey, Charlie, I just got the Atari 2600. You wanna play?"

As much as Chuck knew he had higher priorities, he kind of did.

* * *

"He won a Missile Command championship a couple of years ago, and it's gone to his head. Thinks he rules Echo Park."

Chuck was surveying Casey's bedroom while he the younger man split his attention between the video game he was playing and trying to explain the 1982 version of Jeff Barnes. The room was filled with all sorts of clutter, but Chuck was fascinated with the shelf over Casey's bed. In between a Chess Club trophy and a Rubik's snake twisted into the shape of a dog stood several rows of vintage Star Wars action figures. Most even had their capes and miniature weapons. "You know, I'd bet these will be worth a lot some day."

Casey looked over. "The toys? I doubt it. If you want to get rich, Charlie, buy stock in Kodak." He wiggled his controller, but the array of pixels on the TV screen was unable to dodge the barrel. "Darn it! Your turn."

Chuck took the joystick from Casey. "You know, you really should stand up to him," he said as he deftly climbed his way up the ladder. "Jeff really doesn't seem that tough to me."

"But he's older, and he's smart, and he has lots of friends, and, geez how'd you do that?" Casey's eyes widened as Chuck finished the screen.

"It's just practice, and concentration."

"It's amazing. You should challenge Jeff in the big Arcade-off tomorrow."

"Arcade-Off?"

"Sure, it's this annual competition at the local arcade. Jeff's the four-time defending champion, but I'd bet you could beat him. As the challenger, you can even choose the game."

"Any game, huh?" He glanced over at the scattered clutter of game cartridges on the table beside the TV. "You've got quite a collection here, Ca-Alexander. I'll bet you could beat Jeff with one of these."

Casey pushed his glasses back onto his nose. "I doubt it."

Chuck glanced speculatively at Casey. You would never guess he would grow up to be John Casey, world-class sniper.

Still, a world-class sniper had to have terrific hand-eye coordination. First-person shooters were still a thing of the future, but there was probably something somewhat suitable. He searched through the pile of cartridges before finally retrieving one. "What about this one?"

"'Vanguard'? I've never even played it. I don't really believe in shooting games. Too violent."

"Well give it a shot. I'll bet you're a natural."

"Gosh, I don't know, Charlie," Casey sighed as Chuck plopped the cartridge into the console.

Fifteen minutes later, Casey was staring at the screen in amazement.

"See I told you that you'd be good at this."

"Wow, that was….amazing!" Casey said, staring down at the joystick.

"A little practice, and I'll bet you can beat Jeff tomorrow."

"You know, you might be right! I should start practicing right now!"

"Well, maybe not right now," Chuck corrected. "First, how about giving me that ride."

* * *

Out of all of the surreal things Chuck had experienced so far that day, this had to be the strangest. Not even the sight of teenaged John Casey driving a Pinto, not the signs for gas at 99 cents a gallon, and not even the sight of two different people dressed up like Michael Jackson on the Thriller cover, compared with seeing his boyhood home in its original grandeur. Sunlight gleamed off of the freshly painted shingles, and a lovingly tended bed of geraniums surrounded the walkway. He had to double-check the address to make sure he had the right house, but sure enough, it was the same 1640 Riverside Drive of his memories.

It all underscored the fact that Chuck had no idea what he was doing. He needed his father's help, of course, but how could he ask for it? How could he explain his current predicament without getting carted off to experience the 1980s version of mental health treatment?

He just had to hope for the best, he decided, and knocked on the door. A couple moments later, the door opened, and Chuck's knees buckled.

His father looked younger, of course, but he didn't seem to have the hunched shoulders and furrowed brow that Chuck remembered. He answered the door dressed in a bright blue polo shirt and shorts, and even seemed to be smiling. In fact, he was clearly happy.

The happiness faded a bit when he saw who was at the door. "I told you never to come here," he hissed.

"I…" Chuck stammered in confusion.

"Never mind that now, you'd better come inside." He grabbed Chuck by the arm and pulled him through the door.

"Really, I'd rather not have my neighbors knowing who I work for. You call me on my secure line, no personal contact, that was the agreement."

"I don't think I…"

Stephen Bartowski rolled his eyes. "The CIA really doesn't train their gofers very thoroughly, do they? Well, I can give you the plans, but they aren't finished. You'll have to explain it to your boss. And don't bother trying to understand them. Frankly, you'll just give yourself a headache. Just stay right here, and I'll get them." Before Chuck could say another word, his father vanished down the hall.

"Daddy! Who was at the door?" A moment later, Chuck heard the stomping of feet and a small figure in Osh Kosh B'Gosh and pigtails emerged into the hallway.

"Hi there," Chuck smiled. He had only seen his sister this young in pictures.

"I was playing Operation," Ellie said matter-of-factly. "Do you want to play?"

"I'm afraid you'd beat me. What about Checkers?" Chuck had never beaten his sister at Checkers. This was probably his best chance to end his losing streak.

Ellie shook her head. "I wanna play Operation, but I need somebody to play against. He's no good to play with yet."

Chuck's eyes followed his sister's pointed finger towards a crib standing in the living room down the hall. He knew he probably shouldn't, but couldn't help himself, and walked over there.

While Chuck had always been told that he'd been a fussy baby, that didn't seem to be the case here. The young child in the playpen was eagerly sucking on a pacifier, and displayed no fear at the stranger staring down at him.

Adult Chuck, on the other hand, had a more severe reaction. He'd never considered the possibility that he himself was in the Intersect, but clearly, the database was quite thorough, and up-to-date. The flash started with a brief review of his childhood and years at Stanford, followed by a leap to his CIA career. Finally, he saw images from the final year, including Sarah's amnesia and departure, and Morgan's death.

The overall effect was overwhelming and Chuck fell to the floor. "Dad!" he heard a yell from behind him.

A moment later, this was followed by "Steve! I think your work friend is on drugs!"

Strong hands pulled Chuck up and placed him in a seated position. He opened his eyes, and saw his rescuer. She was younger, and wearing more shoulder pads, than he remembered, but despite that she was unmistakable. "Ma- Mrs. Bartowski?"

"Hmmph. Somehow, I don't see you taking my job at the Agency any time soon. Steve?"

"Yeah, let me take care of him. Help me bring him down to the basement."

* * *

"You're him, aren't you?"

"What?" Chuck was seated on a chair while his father rummaged through papers on a nearby desk.

"You're…Charles. My son."

"Why, that's, how did you know?"

"I saw how you looked at him. And then what happened." Stephen walked over to Chuck and looked him squarely in the eye. "So what are you doing traveling through time?"

"You're taking this awfully well, uh, Dad," Chuck said.

Stephen shrugged. "Well, I could ask you for proof, or ask you who the president is, and you'll say something like Arnold Schwarzenegger or O.J. Simpson, and I'll say that's crazy, then you'll say something that I never told anyone, and force me to believe you. But I figured we could save time and skip all of that. And besides, I've tinkered a bit with time travel myself."

Chuck nodded. "That's why I came here. I need your help getting back, to the, well, uh, you know."

"Hmm…shouldn't be a problem to fix."

Chuck and his father were back by the mall, crouched by the upended car, and Stephen was studying the blue orb.

"Then you can get me back?"

"Shouldn't be a problem, assuming there's enough gas in the car."

"Oh that," Chuck looked over at the Prius. "The car is electric."

"Seriously? How long are extension cords in the future?" Stephen shook his head. "Never mind. I'll figure it out, and get it started. Probably will take a day or so. In the mean time," he looked up at his grown son, "I don't think it's a good idea for you to stay out of sight. Too many strange things could happen. We don't want you changing the future, do we?"

Chuck had been silently debating something on the way back to the mall, and now had made a decision. "Actually, Dad, there's something I need to tell you."

Stephen held up a hand. "I'd rather you didn't. There's nothing about the future I need, or want, to know. So if you're thinking about telling me who wins the next 30 World Series so I can make a fortune gambling, don't."

Chuck had to admit he probably wouldn't have been able to do that if he'd wanted to. "No, it's not that, it's…"

"Seriously Charles, don't. The less you mess with the future, the better. I suggest you lay low, and come meet me tomorrow."

* * *

For Chuck, laying low meant a barely furnished safe house located over a Dart Drug, with a barely stocked refrigerator, and all the entertainment options the three television networks offered. Unfortunately, episodes of "Superfriends" and "Benson" could only distract his attention for so long. Eventually, his thoughts returned to the present and what was waiting for him there. Which was hardly anything – no Sarah, Casey or Morgan – other than some angry Libyans.

Thanks to the flash that afternoon, the images of what he had lost were still fresh in his mind. And seeing his father again had been shocking, but also wonderful. The idea that he might be able to work along side him was something he had always wanted, and now he had a chance.

But that would be gone if he returned back to 2012. Unless he did something about it. And if his Dad wouldn't listen now, maybe he would later on.

Chuck went up to the TV and shut it off, then found a blank sheet of paper in a desk drawer. He wrote, "Dear Dad, on May 24, 2010 you will be shot by Daniel Shaw at a hidden Ring facility. Please take whatever precautions are necessary. PS, the Ring is a secret terrorist organization, and Daniel Shaw will be the big guy with a huge ego and no personality."

Satisfied, he folded up the note placed it in his pocket.

* * *

Early the next morning, he was woken up by the phone ringing. After a fever-pitched battle with the long cord and bulky receiver, he croaked, "Hello?"

"Charles, it's…your father. I think I've got this thing working."

"Ok, great!"

"It's best that we test the thing in a place without anyone around. Too many questions would be raised otherwise. Do you know where the Drive-in Theater is?"

It hadn't been open for years, but Chuck remembered the place. "Yes."

"Good. It's got a lot of open space and nobody will be around there until nighttime. Can you handle another morning of the 1980s?"

Before Chuck could respond, Stephen said, "Great! I'll meet you at the theatre at 2 PM, sharp. Don't be late! And stay out of sight!"

After a Jell-O Pudding Pop and Frankenberry breakfast, Chuck decided he wasn't going to stay cooped up in the safe house any longer. He ducked outside and began exploring the 1982 version of Burbank.

He'd hoped the fresh air would help him think better. Unfortunately, the smog had other ideas, and he found himself back at the Dual Beeches mall, trying to catch his breath.

A commotion from the other end of the mall attracted his attention. He went to explore, and found himself at the local arcade. A bright red banner said 'Burbank Arcade-Off', with two crudely drawn Pac-men about to gobble up the words.

Deciding the place was crowded enough for him to blend in, Chuck ducked inside. While the walls were lined with various quarter-munching machines, most of the crowd stood at the middle of arcade, content to watch the action.

In the middle of this crowd stood Jeff Barnes, basking in the adoration of his fans while a younger kid dressed in a Battlestar Galactica t-shirt hunched over a Defender machine, intently maneuvered his way through the tiny alien spacecraft on the screen.

"Ooh, you missed! Oh, he almost got you! Oh Darn, now you're down to your last man!" With each comment, Jeff waved to the crowd, as if directing an orchestra of boo's and laughs. Occasionally, he would nudge one of his two sidekicks from the Howard Johnson's to punctuate a comment.

Most of his attention was spent on the girl his arm was around. The girl would smile back between chomps on her gum, or wipe of strand of hair back toward her side ponytail.

Finally, the younger boy smacked the machine in frustration as his last man died away. Jeff pushed him aside brusquely. "Time to see how a true master works," he said, plopping a quarter inside the game. Any suspense over this particular match-up disappeared quickly as Jeff deftly weaved his way through the attacking aliens, bobbing up and down on the screen. The young boy eventually disappeared to the back of the room.

"And we have a winner! Jeff Barnes!" a man in the back of the room shouted into the microphone.

"Alright, if there are no worthy opponents, I think I'll duck out to the Orange Julius from some refreshment. Coming Babe?" he asked the girl with the side ponytail.

"Totally!" the girl replied with a smile

Putting an arm around the girl, Jeff yelled, "I'll be back in 15 minutes, if anyone dares challenge me!" he yelled back as he disappeared into the mall.

As the arcade began to temporarily empty, Chuck heard a "Psst," behind him. Looking back, Chuck saw Casey, hiding behind a pinball machine.

"Uh, Alex, what are you doing?"

"I didn't want Jeff to see me."

"But aren't you going to challenge him?" Chuck asked.

"I don't know. It just doesn't seem worth the humiliation," Casey shrugged.

"But you've been practicing, right?"

Casey nodded.

"Then go for it! I know you can handle it. Just go up to him and say, 'Jeff, I am going to kick your ass at Vanguard.'"

"Gosh, I don't know. Do I really need to swear?"

"Absolutely swear, Alex. A little intimidation, I'll bet he'll totally freeze up."

"Alright, I guess I could try. Oh," Casey said, fumbling through his pockets, "do you have a quarter I could borrow?"

Chuck did, but he doubted his 2012 issue coins would work in the machine. Instead, he glanced at the ground, and pointed at a stray coin lying in the corner. "There's one."

A few minutes later, the crowd began to return, including Jeff and entourage. Chuck heard Casey make a sharp intake of breath. "That's Catherine," he said, pointing to Jeff's girlfriend, "she's so beautiful."

"So!" Jeff announced, causing the noisy hubbub in the arcade to dissipate. "Any more victims!"

After a few seconds, Casey reluctantly raised his hand.

"Rugburn?" Jeff asked, as his two sidekicks sniggered beside him. "Well this should be fun."

* * *

Vanguard was yet another game that Jeff excelled at. He moved his triangular spaceship across the screen, dodging lasers and shooting spaceships in zone after zone. The crowd remained quiet around him, occasionally letting out an 'ooh' or an 'ah' after a particularly close call. Chuck looked over at Casey, to see the young man wiping his sweaty brow with his hand.

Finally, Jeff lost his final life, taken out by what looked like a flying piece of pasta in the Bleak Zone. "67,000 points. Beat that, Rugburn!"

Casey slowly walked up the arcade, wincing at each catcall coming from the audience. He fumbled with his pocket, before finally digging out the coin.

The game did not start promisingly. Casey lost his first life quickly, and had several close calls in the second. Jeff marked each one with a mocking "Be Careful!" imitating the robotic voice of the game.

"C'mon Alex!" Chuck yelled, trying to give Casey some courage. Casey looked back at him, and wasn't able to dodge the oncoming space craft. He was down to one life.

"Like Omigod Jeffrey, I'm hungry," Catherine announce to her boyfriend as the game started up again. "Can we go get some lunch?"

"Not now. I want to watch this dork's humiliation," Jeff replied brusquely.

"But we've been here all day!" Catherine protested.

"No," Jeff pushed the girl aside, causing her to nearly fall on a Q-bert game.

Casey must have seen this out of the corner of his eye. He leaned into the game, ignoring the "Be careful" to make a particularly daring swoop to grab extra energy. He edged his way up through each Rainbow Zone and zoomed through the polygons of each Styx Zone, firing in every direction to hit each enemy that came his way.

Finally, the game announced "Last Zone," and Casey blew up the giant enemy at the top of the screen.

"Congratulations," the game intoned, as '72,000 points' blinked on the screen. A cheer erupted from the audience.

Casey stepped back, glanced over at Chuck, and then walked up to Casey. "I kicked your ass at Vanguard," he said, pointing at the older man. He followed this with a slightly awkward but heartfelt, "Moron."

As Jeff watched in silent bewilderment, Catherine walked over to Casey and kissed him on the lips.

"Listen, Charlie, I'd love to go hang out with you some more, but I think Catherine and I are going to go grab something to eat."

After several minutes of congratulations from various onlookers, and the awarding of a trophy from the arcade owner, Chuck had finally managed to get a moment with his young friend. Having never seen the man smile this much before, Chuck was entranced, but wasn't about to come between him and his newfound love. "No, you go ahead."

Casey held out his hand. "Listen, I never would have done this without you, so thank you for everything. And I'm sure I'll see you again soon."

"Eventually," Chuck replied, shaking Casey's hand. As he did this, he noticed the future Colonel's digital watch. "Is that really the time?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I'm late! I've gotta go!"

* * *

"You're late!"

Chuck had rushed to their old drive-in theatre as quickly as he'd been able. He just hoped the owner of the bicycle he'd conveniently borrowed would understand. Hopefully, a thirty-years-too-late apology note would help.

Stephen Bartowski was standing by the Prius, dirty and with a slightly dented driver-side door but otherwise in decent shape. The engine was purring softly, while the strange metal rod was strapped to the car's roof, the orb glowing slightly.

"So you got it to work?" Chuck asked.

"It took several 9-volt batteries and Mary's hair dryer, but the car should be able to start now."

"And the time travelling?"

"Oh that was a piece of cake. So are you ready to return to your time?"

With all of its grief and loss, 2012 still felt like home to Chuck. As tempting as it might be to not face that, he had to return. Besides, it would be nice to not breathe in smog and Aqua Net all the time, and the idea of re-living two different teen pop fads didn't exactly appeal either. "Yes."

Stephen checked the blue orb briefly, before nodding in satisfaction. Watching his father, absorbed in a task like he always used to be, forced Chuck to speak up. "Dad, I…."

"No secrets about the future, Charles. I don't want to know anything about it." After a second, Stephen turned around. "Except for one thing. Are you happy, Son?"

Chuck realized there was only one thing he could say. "I am, Dad," he said, embracing his father. As he held on tight, he snuck the letter into his Dad's jacket pocket.

"Ok, then, you'd better get back to it."

Chuck opened the door to the Prius, and hopped in. "Back up a bit before starting up. You're going to need to build up some speed for this to work."

Chuck did so, easing his way backwards through the parking lot, until the bumper was a few inches from the fence. He then floored the gas as soon as he'd backed up far enough to feel comfortable. He waved at his father as he passed him, while trying to keep his eyes aimed forward.

A moment later, the Prius was chugging forth as fast as it could. A second later, a bright flash of light exploded in Chuck's eyes. When his vision cleared, he had to pull the wheel all the way to the right to avoid the building right in front of him. The Prius skidded to the side, jumped a curb, and slammed into a tree. Chuck blacked out as his head hit the airbag.

* * *

"About time you woke up."

Chuck blinked, trying to ignore the raging headache he was feeling. He blinked again, and found himself staring at a white ceiling. He struggled to turn his head, and found a much older John Casey looking at him.

"Casey, you're…"

"Pissed at having to leave a nice dinner with my daughter to come see your sorry ass. What the hell were you doing? You're lucky you're in better shape than that hippie car of yours."

It looked like the same old Casey, and sounded like the same old Casey. But he was alive.

"Dude, you should see it." another voice spoke, and Chuck struggled to lean over. Morgan was standing behind Casey, his eyes bright. "Completely totaled. And I never knew you were so into Starbucks. You must have been in a real hurry. Either that, or that tree did something to get you really angry."

Of course. The old drive-in theatre had become a mini-mall 15 years ago. He had gone from driving through an empty field to a shopping center when he had jumped through time. He was lucky he hadn't hit anyone.

The sight of his two friends alive and well was wonderful, but confusing. "What about the Libyans?" he asked.

"What, those militants? Your better half took care of them, remember?"

"My better half?"

"By a wide margin. Never understood what she sees in you."

Casey stepped aside, and Chuck found himself staring at Sarah, her face a mix of tenderness and concern. "Never do that again, Chuck," she said, taking his hand and kissing him lightly on the lips. "I'm too young to be a widow."

"Sarah, you remember? What about the amnesia?"

Sarah looked to Casey. "Amnesia? What are you talking about? Are you sure there was no concussion?" "Trust me, Chuck. I remember everything. Meeting you, how you proposed to me, our wedding day. Heck, I even remember how you forgot your toast at Morgan and Carina's wedding."

"Don't remind me," Morgan grumbled behind her.

"Your dad cured me of that amnesia, remember?"

"My Dad?"

"Hi there, Son."

Stephen Bartowski walked over to the bed. He put a hand on Sarah's shoulder. "Would you mind if I had a moment alone with him, Dear? I promise I'll give him back." Sarah, somewhat reluctantly, left the hospital room.

A moment later, Casey grabbed Morgan and dragged him out as well. "Don't forget," the NSA Agent rumbled "Call of Duty Thursday night. You better be well enough for me to kick your ass."

"You read the note," Chuck whispered to his father when everyone had left. "I didn't think you would."

Stephen shrugged. "Thirty years. You don't think I'd fall to temptation once? Actually, I wish you'd warned me about more than Shaw. Like wine coolers and bowling shirts." Stephen smiled. "But really, thank you, Son. Knowing how you'd turn out, it kept me going in some dark times."

"But I changed the future. Screwed up the space-time continuum."

"Eh. Was it so great before?" Stephen patted his son on the shoulder. "By the way, your mom will be here shortly, and your sister is on her way from DC. She'll be here as soon as she can."

"DC?"

"Being Surgeon General is busy."

"But how could I have changed that? I never…"

"Best not to try to figure these things out. You'll just give yourself a headache. Best just to focus on the now. This now. You're healthy, happy and surrounded by people who love you. Why try to explain it?"

Chuck decided that his father was right as Sarah, Casey and Morgan re-entered the hospital room. As hard as it was to believe, 2012 had turned into a good year after all.

* * *

"And they lived happily ever after. Well?" Morgan asked the still wide-awake Clara.

The young girl pursed her lips in thought. "Well, it was ok. But it wasn't really scary. It was more action-adventure. And kind of mushy at the end."

"You are very hard to please."

"Well, you can try again if you'd like. But this time, really make it scary."

Morgan sighed. Babysitting was a lot harder than he'd realized. "Alright Clara, if that's what you want, prepare to be very, very scared…"

* * *

_Alright, two down one to go. I hope everyone has enjoyed the first two parts (no chapter 2 wasn't intended as a full story - hopefully no confusion there). Please submit a review to let me know how I'm doing - hopefully not as tough as Clara but I'll take what I can get._


	4. Invasion of the Time Slot Snatchers

**Invasion of the Timeslot Snatchers**

"I trust I haven't kept you waiting."

Thanks to his years of experience, Chuck chose not to correct General Beckman. While he certainly would have preferred to spend a leisurely morning alone with Sarah rather than waiting around for their weekly Sunday morning debrief with the General, he wasn't about to test Beckman's patience by pointing out her lateness.

The newest member of Team Bartowski didn't have the same level of experience. "Actually, General, we were supposed to start a half hour ago," Morgan chimed in, earning a growl from Casey, an elbow from Sarah, and a wince from Chuck.

Surprisingly, the General didn't look annoyed. "I must have lost track of time," she shrugged. "I was binge watching the first season of 'Mind Over Manners' last night. You guys watch that show?"

"Uh…" Though Castle did in fact possess a water cooler, Chuck wasn't used to having any of its name-sake conversations occurring around it. Especially with a four-star General.

"Well, you should. It's quite good. I find the moral ambiguity of the hero very compelling."

"Perhaps we should jump in with our updates," Sarah interrupted the awkward silence. "The visit from the delegation from the Czech Republic went smoothly. No sign of any of the insurgent activity we were worried about. Though there were some logistical challenges involving the trip to Disney Land."

"Hey, I only lost them for a few minutes!" Morgan protested. "How was I to know the cotton candy line was that long? But I caught up with them, didn't I?"

Casey grunted in amusement. "Luckily, they went on the one ride you're tall enough to go on."

"Anyway, moving on," Sarah continued. "We picked up a couple of rogue ex-Ring agents trying to sell state secrets. They tried to put up a fight, but thanks to some well-timed kung fu," she pointed to Chuck with a beaming expression, "were ultimately apprehended. So all is smooth here General."

"No!"

Everyone looked up in surprise. "I'm sorry, did we do something wrong?"

"Hmm…what?" The General's attention was off to the side, off the conference room screen. Now she looked back in their direction. "Sorry, just starting Season 2. Cliffhangers, you know. Maybe, um, we can continue this meeting later." A second later, the screen went blank.

* * *

"Well, that was odd," Sarah commented as they had returned home after the meeting.

"Yeah, I would have guessed the General only watched the Military Channel."

"Not that," Sarah corrected her boyfriend. "But she never would blow off a meeting to watch TV."

"It's gotta be a stressful job to be a General. She probably just needed a break."

"But 'Mind Over Manners'?" Morgan scoffed.

"What is that anyway?" Sarah asked.

"It's this new show on cable. A bit artsy for me," the bearded man sniffed as he grabbed a soda from Chuck and Sarah's fridge.

"Then you've seen it?"

"No. But I've read several blog reviews about it. A lot of hype, if you ask me."

Sarah shrugged. "Well, everyone's entitled to a brief bout of unprofessionalism. For some of us it's cotton candy, for some of us it's falling for your asset," she smiled at Chuck, "and for some of us it's a TV show. Anyway," she said, heading for the bedroom, "I have a shopping date with your sister. If you want to dwell on the mystery of Beckman's late night viewing habits, be my guest."

* * *

Chuck and Morgan opted to spend their afternoon focused on their own viewing habits, until the bearded man left to go home at around four. After cleaning up a bit, Chuck went to meet his girlfriend at his sister's house.

He found Sarah and Ellie seated on the couch, staring at the TV screen. "Uh, I thought you guys were going shopping," he said after his brief greeting fell on deaf ears.

Ellie shrugged. "We thought about it, but decided to catch up on 'Mind Over Manners' instead."

"You should watch it with us," Sarah said. "It's really very good."

"So edgy," Ellie added.

"I agree," Sarah nodded, though were voice was somewhat dispassionate. "How McCarthy runs an underground Mahjongg ring, but he does it to support his family." Steven McCarthy was the show's main character. It was one of the few things about the show that Chuck knew.

"But at the same time is having an affair with his business partner's wife. He's so complex."

"He's a real…"

"Anti-hero." Ellie and Sarah said this last part simultaneously, but rather than amused by this, they merely nodded to each other.

"The new season starts tonight, Chuck," Sarah said, "you should really watch it."

"The cast will be live tweeting," Ellie added.

"Umm, Sarah aren't we supposed to…" Chuck nodded his head towards Casey's house.

"The stakeout can wait a night, Chuck. I want to watch the show."

"Sarah!" Chuck was surprised by his girlfriend's slip. They had agreed to keep pretending to Ellie that he was no longer spying. However, his sister didn't seem to notice. Instead, she had returned her attention to the TV. A moment later, so did Sarah.

* * *

"It's just so weird."

Chuck was pacing back and forth in the living room of his bungalow, while Morgan watched him from the couch. "Well, it's not like you and I haven't wasted a day in front of the TV before."

"But she almost gave away everything to Ellie. And she didn't even seem to care."

"But Ellie didn't notice, Chuck."

"No, she and Sarah just kept going on about the show. About how it's so great to watch a character that's so edgy and complex."

"Yeah, I just don't get that," Morgan commented. "That whole anti-hero thing seems so played out to me. Whatever happened to shows with an actual hero, somebody you can look up to. A normal, well-adjusted person who does the right thing for the right reasons. Like you."

"Well, that's nice to say, Morgan…"

"Let's face it, I'd bet they wouldn't even make a show about somebody like you, Chuck. Nobody would ever watch it."

"Gee, thanks."

"Hey, I'm serious. You're a nice guy. Now you need to build a show around some bitter, angry guy who steals from orphans. Somebody like…Casey!"

The older man took no notice of the conversation when he burst into the room. "We have a problem!"

Seeing Casey's wild expression, Chuck leapt to his feet. "Has there been a terrorist attack? A bomb threat?"

"Worse. It's this TV show."

"Seriously, Casey? I mean, it's definitely causing people to act weird, but I kind of feel like I'd rather deal with that than a bomb scare."

Casey grunted. "Show's how much you know, Bartowski. This is much worse."

"That's what I was saying," Morgan chimed in. "This whole trend with the dark dramas…"

"Oh, can the Comic-Con navel-gazing, Grimes," Casey interrupted. "This is more important. It's mind control."

Chuck and Morgan stared at Casey blankly for a minute. "I'm sorry, did you say mind control?"

"For someone with a mind filled with billion dollar Government equipment, Bartowski, yours is awfully closed. It's not that far-fetched. And it's happened before. Hell, the CIA has done it before. He pulled something out of his pocket, and threw it onto the kitchen table. "Here."

Chuck glanced down at what Casey had dropped. "Is that a TV guide? From 1978?" He glanced at the cover. "Isn't that 'Welcome Back…'" At that moment, his eyes rolled over as the images flashed before him – several scientists seated at a table, a human brain, and finally a school room filled with wise-cracking teenagers."

"Believe me now?" Casey asked drily.

"Umm, I guess." Chuck was surprised he hadn't flashed on that before. Apparently, he hadn't seen any pictures of Gabe Kaplan in a long while.

"It was a CIA experiment in the late 70's to turn teenage couch potatoes into Super Soldiers," Casey explained. "It didn't work. Neither did their attempt to turn even younger kids in the 80s. After Operation Full House, the idea was mostly abandoned."

"So you think 'Mind Over Manners' is the CIA?"

"No, this is different. I can prove it." Casey headed over to the laptop sitting in the living room coffee table, and flipped it open.

"What did you find?" Chuck asked, walking over to see what the older man was doing. "Classified documents?"

"Better."

Chuck peered over at the screen. "IMDB?" he asked, dubiously.

"Look,"Casey pointed at the 'Mind Over Manners' cast list. "You're a TV geek. Have you ever heard of any of these people?"

Both Chuck and Morgan admitted they hadn't. Casey clicked on the link for Don Kauffman, the actor playing Steven McCarthy. He didn't have as much as a 'Law and Order' guest spot to his credit. The rest of the cast was similarly lacking in past roles.

"Ok, it's a little odd," Chuck admitted. "But hardly proof of mind control."

"Hold on," Morgan nudged Casey over. "Have you also noticed this show is everywhere? They're airing new episodes now, but you can also stream them on like every site – Netflix, Amazon, everywhere."

"Maximum exposure," Casey nodded.

The sight of Casey and Morgan agreeing on something was making Chuck's head spin. "So what do we do?" Even if this was a ridiculous waste of time, it didn't look like he was going to have any evening plans with Sarah.

"Check the production company," Casey pointed at the laptop.

"Siegel Productions. Never heard of it, either."

"I say we pay them a visit," Casey said, punching a first into his other hand. "But first, we need to stop at Castle and get some equipment."

* * *

Thanks to Casey's hell-bent driving through the streets of Burbank, they made it to the Buy More in no time. Chuck hopped out of the Crown Vic and followed Casey and Morgan, hoping to quickly make it to Castle's secret entrance in the back of the store.

Those hopes were quickly dashed when they stepped through the doors. The place was packed. People were standing motionless all throughout the store. Nobody noticed the three spies' entrance however. Everyone was staring at the various TV screens interspersed throughout the store.

All of which were tuned to 'Mind Over Manners.'

"Well, this is creepy."

"Quiet, Grimes," Casey hissed. "We need to get through without anyone noticing us."

As Chuck weaved through the mass of entranced customers, he heard snippets of conversation.

"It's a parable of our time."

"I just tweeted about how much I love this show."

"I love how he goes home after cheating that old man, and then cries while watching that kid's movie."

"He can be a real jerk to people, but it's so understandable because of his Tourette's syndrome. It's just so real."

"A snapshot into the human condition."

"He's a true villain, but he's also a hero."

All of these opinions were voiced by different people, but all spoken in the same dispassionate cadence.

"Man, this show is so overrated," Morgan whispered to Chuck.

Chuck was about to respond, but a strange hissing sound interrupted him. He looked up to see Lester and Jeff standing in front of them, pointing. "He dares insult our show," Lester said.

"We must stop the haters," Jeff added.

The crowd began to surround Chuck and Morgan. "Now you did it," Casey growled, standing beside them.

"What do we do?" shouted Chuck. His co-workers could be annoying at times, but that didn't mean he wanted to hurt them.

Casey, not feeling the same way, shoved Lester aside and elbowed his way through the crowd. "Come on!"

Chuck followed, but the horde of people seemed to get thicker and thicker. "We're never going to get through all of them."

"You're right, _we're_ not," Casey shouted back. "Bartowski, open my locker, the combination's 1-21-81. Take the green duffel bag." The big man pushed his way to the side, clear of Chuck and Morgan. "Hey everybody! Your show sucks!"

A high-pitched, angry shriek echoed through the show room as the mob immediately turned to the NSA Agent.

"That's right! It's boring, pretentious, and full of plot holes!" Casey slowly backed his way to the side of the room, taking the angry crowd with him. "Why I'd rather watch CSI Miami, or Psych, or…Saved by the Bell!"

The shriek grew even louder. Chuck barely managed to hear Casey's final shout of "Go on! Get out of here!" before the big man's voice was drowned out.

* * *

"Now what?" Morgan asked, as he jumped into the passenger side of Chuck's car.

"We figure out what's in the bag of Casey's," Chuck replied. "After all the trouble it took to get it." Getting back down to Castle had been tricky, as they'd had to push their way through several TV-possessed Buy More customers to get to the back entrance. They'd found several others waiting for them after they'd re-surfaced, and had barely made it to the car with their limbs intact.

"Hmm…" Morgan said as he unzipped the duffel bag while Chuck started the car. "Let's see, we've got a few weapons."

"Good."

"And a notebook." As Morgan began to leaf through the book, Chuck made a sharp turn onto the road, nearly causing Morgan to land on one of the sharp implements sticking out of the bag. "Hey!"

"Sorry. Need to get out of here quickly. We've got company."

Morgan looked back, and recognized Jeff's van right behind them. "You know I've really been looking forward to actually being in a real car chase. Having it be from Lester and Jeff is kind of a let-down though."

"Sorry to disappoint you. I'll try to run over a food stand just to get in the spirit of things." Chuck felt a jostle, as the van bumped into the car. "I can't tell if whatever is controlling Jeff is making him more aggressive, or if that's just his normal driving." He accelerated and put some ground between them and their pursuers.

"Well, we've got one advantage," Morgan said, looking backwards. "He's only half paying attention to us." Chuck glanced at the rearview mirror. Jeff had one hand on the steering wheel, while the other held his phone up to his line of sight. At most, one eye seemed to be focused on the road.

"I'm not one for distracted driving, but I suppose we have one thing to thank that damn show for." Whatever 'Mind Over Manners' was doing to people, it was spreading quickly The roads were now practically empty, with everyone stuck in front of a TV screen or random 21st Century device binge-watching. Only Jeff was crazy enough to try watching TV and driving at the same time, though that was probably true even before his brain got zapped.

Seeing an opportunity, Chuck sharply turned on a side street. Jeff, still immersed in the program, kept driving straight ahead. Chuck eased the car into the alley, and stopped.

"Fascinating," Morgan flipped through the notebook while Chuck kept an eye out for any other cable-obsessed automatons. "Casey has some pretty out-there tables. Werewolf sightings in the past twenty years, witch covens in the Pacific Northwest, possible alien abductions, ghostly visitations…"

"Does he have anything a little more normal, and a little less paranormal?"

"Here's a list of Democrats he thinks are secretly vampires."

"I think I'll stick with a foreign government or terrorist organization theory right now."

"Well, if you change your mind, there's a pretty detailed chart here: 'Tested and untested methods for killing monsters, the undead, and commies.' He's got a lot of check marks in here."

"Good to know. Maybe we'd better come up with a plan before we start hunting zombies."

"Ok, but if we do we should probably bring fire, or a sharp weapon made of tungsten."

"Duly noted. How about we check out that production company." Morgan dutifully pressed it into his phone. "Nothing. Not a hit." He flipped through a few screens. "That might be because the entire internet seems to be devoted to 'Mind Over Manners.'"

"Well, see what you can find." Morgan poked around on his phone a bit more. "That's creepy," he commented. "Everybody on the message boards is in complete agreement with everyone else."

"Hmm, no foreign country or terrorist organism could have that much power. Keep looking. Maybe find some pictures of external shots, we might be able to figure out where they shoot this thing."

"Good idea." Chuck kept an eye out at the alley while Morgan searched. It had been quiet, but he couldn't imagine the streets would stay empty for too long. And Jeff and Lester might come back.

"Apparently, the show isn't big on external shots. Really, it looks like most of it takes place at the same courthouse."

"Courthouse?" Chuck turned to look over at his friend's phone. "I thought the main character owned a toy store empire."

"That was Season 1. Season 2, he was a veterinarian. Season 3, a Supreme Court Justice."

"No wonder they have to resort to mind control to get people to watch. Keep flipping." Morgan explored a few more sites. "Wait, go back!"

Chuck studied the screen intently, and nodded. "I know that place. It's the old library building downtown. Let's go check it out."

* * *

With no other cars in sight, Chuck made the unChuck-like decision of running every red light on the way to the library. Whatever was going on had created a sense of urgency in the young spy, and he wasn't going to waste any time yielding to the nonexistent incoming traffic. So, they made unusually good time getting downtown.

If they'd had any doubt that they were on the right track, entering the building made them quickly vanish. The hallway was covered with TV screens, all tuned to a different episode of "Mind Over Manners."

"Morgan, shut your eyes!"

"I'm trying, but the dialogue…" His voice began to lose its trademark whine. "Listen to the dialogue, it's so deep with subtext."

"Try to ignore it, Morgan!"

"I…can't!"

Chuck knew he needed to do something drastic to distract Morgan's attention from the screens. "So no one told me it was going to be this waaaay!" he sang. "Your job's a joke, you're broke, your love life's DOAaaaa!"

"Ack, stop! I'm ok now. Just quit singing!"

Chuck grabbed Morgan's hand, and dragged him through the double doors.

When he was a kid, Chuck's father had taken him to this library once or twice. He still remembered the shelves of dusty books, the rows of carrels with green lamps perched atop them, and a few state-of-the-art desktops, each accompanied by a bulky CRT monitor.

All of that was gone now. Instead, Chuck and Morgan found themselves looking at a large empty room. The shelves that had lined the walls were now replaced by blinking images of what appeared to be a courtroom, occasionally shifting to pictures of a living room, doctor's office or board room. "They sure save money on sets," Morgan remarked.

While the holograms indicated they were on the right track, Chuck had been hoping they would find more. He was about to give up when he noticed a side door, away from the walls with the shifting images, with an odd glow coming from underneath. He tugged the door and looked inside.

The room was filled with electronic equipment that Chuck had never seen before. Stacks of metallic boxes surrounded the room, with several oddly shaped and colored buttons. There were a few monitors with odd characters covering the screen. There were electrodes coming from the top that reminded him of old horror movies, emitting flashes and sparks every few seconds.

About the only familiar thing was an old television set, from all appearances from the 1970s, with dials and antennae. While the screen was on, it wasn't showing "Mind Over Manners," but rather a first-person viewpoint of someone watching "Mind Over Manners."

"Weird," Chuck remarked.

"Pretty dull too," Morgan replied. "Who'd want to watch someone watching TV? I mean, at least maybe if was some kind of 'Mystery Science Theatre' commentary…"

"What are you doing here?"

Chuck and Morgan turned around. To their surprise, they found themselves staring at Don Kauffman, the star of 'Mind Over Manners,' along with two other people. One, if Chuck remembered correctly, was David Bennell, the actor playing McCarthy's mentor and confidante, while the other Brooke Driscoll, was the actress playing his wife.

"We wanted to see our favorite show being filmed," Chuck said, trying to imitate the droning voice of the show's possessed fans.

"You do not speak the truth," the actress said, pointing at Chuck. She opened her mouth and made a strange, high-pitched sound. The noise was what Chuck imagined a drunk sea lion would sound like if it was auditioning for a role in a high school musical.

"That can't be good," Chuck commented.

A moment later, the two actors joined in, creating an unholy three-part harmony. Underneath this, he barely heard the sound of rummaging behind him, and glanced over to see Morgan rifling through the duffel bag. After a triumphant 'A-ha!' the bearded man removed a crossbow from the bag.

"Morgan, be careful with that." The chances were good that he'd shoot himself in the foot. But luck was on their side for once. After struggling with the trigger, Morgan managed to fire off an arrow, hitting the older actor in the knee.

Two things happened a second later. First, a greenish liquid began to ooze out of the man's wound. And second, the rest of the man turned a strange shade of blue.

Chuck and Morgan turned to each other. "Aliens," they said at the same time.

A second later, the three non-humans retreated out the door. Chuck and Morgan followed them back out into the large room, only to stop in their tracks.

* * *

In the minutes spent facing the strange aliens, the giant room had gone from being completely empty to being completely full of angry, possessed fanboys and fangirls. The crowd had parted to let the aliens through, but now had moved to completely block Chuck and Morgan from following them. Or escaping, for that matter.

"Uh, hey guys," Chuck said, seeing Sarah, Ellie and Casey standing at the front of the mob. Casey, without his duffel bag of random weapons, was holding a baseball bat. Sarah was wielding a large metal pipe and Ellie, an iron chain. The marauders behind them had their own weapons, including wrenches, tire irons, and what looked like an ice pick.

"You tried to end 'Mind Over Manners,'" Sarah said unemotionally but firmly. "Now you must die."

"You know, I've found that buying sandwiches is a much more effective way to save a show," Morgan remarked. "But sure, killing us is an option, I guess."

"Morgan, get back in the other room, try to figure out how to turn off that equipment."

"How?"

"I don't know. Pull a plug, change the station. Anything!" Morgan retreated back through the door as the crowd advanced on Chuck.

Fortunately for Chuck, the Intersect kicked into non-lethal combat mode. He had no intention of hurting any of his friends, but he wasn't particularly keen on being killed, either. Luckily, whatever was controlling everyone's mind also slowed them down. Even Sarah's moves seemed sluggish, and he was able to dodge a swing of the pipe without too much effort.

"I will end your trolling of my show, Moron," Casey said, swinging the bat at Chuck.

"Well, it's nice you managed to retain a piece of your personality there, Casey," Chuck replied as he ducked.

Unfortunately, there were too many of them, and the evasive maneuvers weren't going to delay the inevitable for long. "Morgan, what's going on in there?" he shouted.

"No plugs! And that damn show is on every station!"

"Well, try something else!" Chuck dodged a pick-axe swung by the barista from his favorite coffee place, while the weekend weather reporter from Channel 9 tried to grab him from behind. Eventually, someone was going to succeed, and then he'd be doomed.

"Wait, let me try something!" Chuck dodged yet another swing from Casey, and then there was a roar of confusion from the crowd. A second later, everyone fell to the ground.

Chuck rushed to Sarah, and checked her pulse. His girlfriend was alive, but sleeping. He confirmed that Ellie and Casey were in the same state, and went over to Morgan.

"Would you believe this thing had a USB port?" the other man asked.

"What did you do?"

"You know that conversation we had a year ago about the ten people we'd want to be stranded in an adrift ocean liner with?"

Chuck did. It was kind of a follow-up conversation to a previous discussion about sandwiches. "Wait, you recorded that?"

Morgan grinned. "I've got another hour or so of footage on my phone. Should buy us some time. Though I am a little hurt that they don't find it as fascinating as we did."

"Right now, I'll take whatever help we can get."

"Sure. Now, how about we go kick some giant alien smurf ass."

* * *

There were a few other doors in the building, but most led to other tiny rooms. A few had more strange equipment, but Chuck didn't want to try to spend the time to figure them out. Finally, they found a door leading to a set of stairs.

Chuck and Morgan climbed the stairwell as it wound around, until it stopped at a large, oak door. He tried tugging the door open but it wouldn't budge. He vaguely remembered that this was where the rare book collections were stored, explaining the additional, and highly annoying at that moment, security.

Morgan tried running into the door, and nearly fell backwards down the stairs. Chuck, grabbing him, studied the lock. "You have a paper clip or something in that bag?"

"Why would Casey carry around a paper…wait, here's one." Chuck took the clip and waited for the flash to send him burgling-related images. A moment later, the necessary information had found its way to his brain, and he wiggled the lock until the door opened.

The room at the other side of the door was only slightly smaller than the one below it, though it seemed a lot more crowded, thanks to the large alien spacecraft in the middle of it. At least it looked like a spacecraft – it turned out that all of those cheesy sci-fi movies from the 1950s were fairly accurate. It was shaped like a child's toy top, with green windows surrounding the widest part of it. No door leading inside the ship could be seen. However, over top the craft a red and green object hung from the ceiling, almost touching the top of the ship. To Chuck it looked like a chandelier designed by the world's most deranged architect.

However, none of the aliens seemed to be around.

"Morgan," Chuck whispered. "Now might be a good time to check that notebook of Casey's. You never know, maybe he does have something useful about killing aliens."

"Good idea." Morgan sat on the ground and whipped through the book. "It would help if he alphabetized these. Let's see, giants, dragons, banshees, Grimes – wait, why am I in here? Sprites, werepigs,…"

"Leave this place!"

Chuck turned to see the three blue thespians standing outside the space craft.

"You cannot spoil our plans," the supporting actor alien added.

"And what are your plans exactly?" Chuck asked, figuring he could buy some time for Morgan. "Take over every human's mind, so you can colonize this planet?"

One of the aliens made a strange hissing sound, that Chuck guessed was laughter. "We have no use for your sad little rock. We want something much more valuable."

"Your brains," another one of the aliens said. "The energy from your minds gives us the power we need to replenish our machines."

"But why the TV show?"

"The process requires that all brains remained focused on a single thing. It allows us to extract energy from the many brains at the same time."

"It's more efficient," the female – though Chuck wasn't really sure the alien _was_ female – added.

"It still seems like a lot of work," Chuck carefully avoided looking back at Morgan, trying to keep the aliens' looking at him. "To make all these TV shows."

"It was easy," the first alien admitted. "Have the characters change their basic personalities from scene to scene, and do things that make no logical sense. You earth people really like that. After, your minds become completely controllable quickly, and there is no need for further production."

"There really are only five episodes," one of the other aliens added.

"See," Morgan griped. "They always get away with those short seasons on cable."

"Enough talking! Prepare to submit." At this point, the head alien opened its mouth. Rather than another high-pitched sound, this time a wave of energy hit Chuck in the chest. He flew backwards, crashing against the wall.

Chuck struggled to regain his footing. He looked over at Morgan, who had still been searching through the notebook. "Find anything?"

"Not much. Casey has a few things with question marks next to them. Guess he never got the chance to do a lot of research."

"Well, pick one!" One of the aliens opened its mouth, and Chuck narrowly avoided another blast.

"Well, he wrote down fire first."

Chuck found a piece of the shattered door frame that had come loose when Chuck had crashed into itl. He fished into his pockets to find his lighter, and lit the fragment. He hurled it at the closest alien.

The flame struck the alien, and a billow of smoke surrounded it. When the smoke dissipated, the alien was twice as large, and from Chuck's viewpoint, twice as angry.

"So, I'll cross out fire then."

"Oh, here, let's just go with the simple solution." Chuck grabbed one of Casey's rifles, and aimed it at one of the other aliens. Before Chuck could blink, the alien zipped out of the way and the shot missed.

"Super speed too, great."

The aliens were descending on them, and the head alien was once again opening its mouth. The giant alien was also approaching. Feeling desperate, Chuck grabbed something out of the bag and threw it at the approaching creature.

The object Chuck managed to find turned out to be a sledgehammer. Heavier than Chuck had expected, the hammer didn't reach its intended goal of the giant alien's chest. Instead it landed squarely on the alien's foot.

A earth-shattering bellow erupted from the alien. It began to shudder and shrink before Chuck's fascinated and horrified eyes. A moment later, all that was left of the alien was a puddle of green goo.

"The humans! They've discovered our weakness!"

"What, your feet?" Chuck asked. "What do you have your entire central nervous system down there?"

The two remaining aliens just looked at each other, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Well that seems like a pretty big design flaw."

Chuck jumped to his feet, avoiding a force bolt from the second alien. He fired off another shot with the rifle, but the alien dodged it using its alien speed.

However, it moved too quickly to notice the goo on the floor and it slipped and fell, crashing into the wall. "Ow, I stubbed my toe," it said before collapsing into another puddle.

"You cannot stop me," the final alien yelled. It made a vague gesture, and suddenly all of the windows on the spaceship turned momentarily black, and then began showing scenes from "Mind Over Manners.'" But rather than airing single episodes, each window rapidly zipped from scene to scene.

Chuck quickly looked away, but Morgan wasn't as fast. He stood motionless, transfixed by the images flooding the room. A moment later, he turned towards Chuck and scowled. Seeing that he had to act quickly, Chuck reached over and punched the soon-to-be-zombie.

"I'm really getting tired of you making me hit my friends," he told the alien.

Unluckily for Chuck, a minute later the door was broken down, and the mob of brain-snatched TV fans descended into the room.

"Dammit." Chuck desperately reached into the duffel bag, looking for anything that would help. He found what he was looking for right before the possessed Casey and Sarah reached him. He ran towards the spacecraft, hoping the flash would kick in.

It did, the image of gymnasts bending in a variety of unwieldy positions flooded his mind. He managed to grab the edge of the ship, and pull himself over the side, just past the reach of Casey. From here, he climbed up past the windows, carefully avoiding looking at any of the images reflected off of them, and worked his way to the top of the ship.

"Stop. What are you doing?" Chuck looked to see the final alien standing behind him.

"I thought I'd change the station." He help up his hand, revealing the grenade in his hand. He removed the pin, and threw it upwards toward the odd chandelier-like object hanging from the ceiling.

There was a huge explosion, as the grenade found its target. Chuck found himself sliding down the side of the ship, the alien right behind him. A moment later he was on the ground. The alien was beside him, opening its mouth.

But before he could hit Chuck with another bolt, the crowd began to surround it.

"Attack him!" the alien bellowed.

"No, you ruined our show," Casey said.

"It used to be good, but now it sucks," Morgan commented.

The crowd moved in towards the alien. Before the creature could defend itself, they were atop him. From behind the angry mob, Chuck could hear "Ouch! Wait, no! Not my foot!"

"I guess the inevitable backlash has started," Chuck remarked.

* * *

"…I'm just saying that if you're going to be stranded on an ocean liner, it's good to be prepared for the worst if food runs out. That's why I'd invite William Howard Taft, or Elvis assuming it was the older version."

"Morgan, I think you're missing the whole point. The question was about who you'd want to have a conversation with while on that stranded ship, or at the very least who might be able to figure out how to get back to shore."

"Hey, you can have all the conversations you want with Marie Curie and Shakespeare. After a few days, they're going to start looking at you like you're a bag of beef jerky."

Chuck and Morgan entered the courtyard, thankfully free from General Beckman's marathon meeting. Like most of the recently affected, she'd managed to recover with little memory of what happened, but a sense of dissatisfaction. For most people, this meant posting long online rants about how 'Mind Over Manners' had gone downhill creatively and failed its audience. In the General's case, it meant scheduling many excruciating meetings with Team Bartowski.

As the two spies approached the house, they saw Sarah and Ellie heading towards them. Both were dressed in white short-sleeved shirts and skirts, and were carrying tennis rackets. "You guys want to join us? It's such a nice day we thought we'd play a set or two."

"Sure beats being cooped up outside," Ellie added. "Getting some fresh air, instead of wasting time staring at the TV."

"Uh, I'll take a rain check. Tennis elbow."

"Alright, if you're sure. Just don't sit around cooped up inside all day," Sarah said as the two girls walked away.

Morgan opened the door to his bungalow and Morgan followed him inside. "So what should we do?" the smaller man asked.

"Sarah might have been right about going outside. It is a nice day."

They looked at each other for a moment. Finally, Morgan said, "You know, I haven't watched the first season of Battlestar Galactica lately."

"I'll get the popcorn."

* * *

"The end."

Morgan looked down at the bed. Clara was finally asleep, snoring softly. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Happy Halloween, Clara."

Quietly descending the stairs, Morgan headed into the living room, and dug through the couch cushions before finally retrieving the remote. He clicked on the TV, and sat down.

"_Previously on 'Mind Over Manners'…"_

* * *

_Happy Halloween everybody! Please let me know what you think!_


End file.
